Creatures: Thirty Years of Monsters by Clive Barker, Robert McCammon, China Miéville, Joe R. Lansdale, Cherie Priest, Christopher Golden, Al Sarrantonio, David Schow, John Langan, Paul Tremblay
Authors: Clive Barker, Robert McCammon, China Miéville, Joe R. Lansdale, Cherie Priest, Christopher Golden, Al Sarrantonio, David Schow, John Langan, Paul Tremblay
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probably a smaller and less dangerous . . . ”
“Horseshit,” Ginger cut in. “If that were true, we’d have planes and things getting attacked all the time.”
He seemed to be prepared for that. “Does the fact that normal tigers don’t eat people in downtown Mumbai prove that the normal jungle doesn’t exist? Does the fact that you aren’t currently being eaten by a black bear prove that there’s no such thing? No. The fact is, when the governments of the world saw how key a role aircraft could play in warfare, if only they could get up there without getting their heads eaten, they took it upon themselves to civilize the skies. The tigers like the head best, you know. And the tongue best out of the head.”
“Yum,” said Ginger.
He frowned at her. “The air tigers were slaughtered or repelled by the numbers stations. They exist now mostly over remote, uninhabited parts of the world that no major power bothers with.”
“Numbers.” I needed to stop doing that, but when I wasn’t talking I had nothing to do with myself but drink and my latest beer was already almost gone. I could feel my brain shuffling and reshuffling all this information, trying to make the pieces fit, and I didn’t like the futility of the feeling.
“Yes, have you heard of numbers stations? Broadcasting eternally on a wavelength no one listens to, impossible to jam, sending out a string of numbers to the atmosphere—numbers that mean nothing to a human, but repel the air-beasts like citronella repels a mosquito.”
“Ginger,” I said, “give me my phone.” There were seven missed calls blinking, and when I hit the callback button, the Carmina Burana started playing in Doyle’s pocket.
He chuckled. “Caught me. I wanted to see how you’d react to that. I thought it would tell me how much you already know.”
“Thanks a lot, asshole.”
He brushed that off. “So, like the tigers in earth jungles, these were out of sight and out of mind—maybe killing some hikers in the Urals, grabbing a hunter in Vermont, causing a plane crash or two over what the rubes call the Bermuda Triangle, but mostly not a problem. Except for the rare instances where they come down over a major, populated area. Like they did a few months ago.”
He waved Sonovia over. “You look like you could use another drink.”
I was shaking like a chihuahua I was so pissed off. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“Put it on my tab,” he said to Sonovia, and then he tapped on the bar. “I’ll be right back.” He headed for the bathroom, and went into the ladies’ by mistake.
“What a dipshit,” Ginger said.
“For real. I was about to buy it for a while, with the numbers thing.”
“You should have decked him for that.” She gulped beer; she was pissed for real, even if she was joking. “You still can if you’d like, I’ll hold his arms.”
“Not even worth it.” I sighed. “I don’t know why I fell for it. It’s not like Jeanette or any of them had their heads eaten, or their tongues, or whatever.”
We sat in silence for a moment, and then she grinned and said, “Do it.”
“Don’t tempt me. I don’t need any more reasons for the police to yell at me.”
“They’d give you the keys to the city for it if they had any sense. Put you on the cover of the Post .”
After what seemed like a ridiculously long time for a pee, Doyle came back.
“Ok, my turn,” Ginger said, and as she walked by me whispered, “Don’t smack him while I’m gone, I want to see this.”
Doyle didn’t hear, and didn’t seem to sense the shift in the wind. “A lot of us believe that most of the UFO flaps in history are actually sightings of air beasts. If you look at the older reports, they tend to suggest something organic—it’s only when the Air Force gets involved during and right after World War Two that you start to see witnesses jumping to mechanistic explanations for what they saw.”
“Who is us, exactly?”
He looked at me and smiled so I
“Horseshit,” Ginger cut in. “If that were true, we’d have planes and things getting attacked all the time.”
He seemed to be prepared for that. “Does the fact that normal tigers don’t eat people in downtown Mumbai prove that the normal jungle doesn’t exist? Does the fact that you aren’t currently being eaten by a black bear prove that there’s no such thing? No. The fact is, when the governments of the world saw how key a role aircraft could play in warfare, if only they could get up there without getting their heads eaten, they took it upon themselves to civilize the skies. The tigers like the head best, you know. And the tongue best out of the head.”
“Yum,” said Ginger.
He frowned at her. “The air tigers were slaughtered or repelled by the numbers stations. They exist now mostly over remote, uninhabited parts of the world that no major power bothers with.”
“Numbers.” I needed to stop doing that, but when I wasn’t talking I had nothing to do with myself but drink and my latest beer was already almost gone. I could feel my brain shuffling and reshuffling all this information, trying to make the pieces fit, and I didn’t like the futility of the feeling.
“Yes, have you heard of numbers stations? Broadcasting eternally on a wavelength no one listens to, impossible to jam, sending out a string of numbers to the atmosphere—numbers that mean nothing to a human, but repel the air-beasts like citronella repels a mosquito.”
“Ginger,” I said, “give me my phone.” There were seven missed calls blinking, and when I hit the callback button, the Carmina Burana started playing in Doyle’s pocket.
He chuckled. “Caught me. I wanted to see how you’d react to that. I thought it would tell me how much you already know.”
“Thanks a lot, asshole.”
He brushed that off. “So, like the tigers in earth jungles, these were out of sight and out of mind—maybe killing some hikers in the Urals, grabbing a hunter in Vermont, causing a plane crash or two over what the rubes call the Bermuda Triangle, but mostly not a problem. Except for the rare instances where they come down over a major, populated area. Like they did a few months ago.”
He waved Sonovia over. “You look like you could use another drink.”
I was shaking like a chihuahua I was so pissed off. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“Put it on my tab,” he said to Sonovia, and then he tapped on the bar. “I’ll be right back.” He headed for the bathroom, and went into the ladies’ by mistake.
“What a dipshit,” Ginger said.
“For real. I was about to buy it for a while, with the numbers thing.”
“You should have decked him for that.” She gulped beer; she was pissed for real, even if she was joking. “You still can if you’d like, I’ll hold his arms.”
“Not even worth it.” I sighed. “I don’t know why I fell for it. It’s not like Jeanette or any of them had their heads eaten, or their tongues, or whatever.”
We sat in silence for a moment, and then she grinned and said, “Do it.”
“Don’t tempt me. I don’t need any more reasons for the police to yell at me.”
“They’d give you the keys to the city for it if they had any sense. Put you on the cover of the Post .”
After what seemed like a ridiculously long time for a pee, Doyle came back.
“Ok, my turn,” Ginger said, and as she walked by me whispered, “Don’t smack him while I’m gone, I want to see this.”
Doyle didn’t hear, and didn’t seem to sense the shift in the wind. “A lot of us believe that most of the UFO flaps in history are actually sightings of air beasts. If you look at the older reports, they tend to suggest something organic—it’s only when the Air Force gets involved during and right after World War Two that you start to see witnesses jumping to mechanistic explanations for what they saw.”
“Who is us, exactly?”
He looked at me and smiled so I
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